


i was just a boy like every other

by slashmania



Series: accumulating names like others make friends [5]
Category: Inception (2010), The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Experiment, Gen, Growing Up, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, The making of "Arthur"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-05-27 18:48:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15031004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmania/pseuds/slashmania
Summary: If Dream were to be honest, he would say that though the Prodigal's talk during the wake had set his thoughts in motion, it was stumbling upon the dreams of an older married couple that prompted him to do something.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Um, I'm just writing because I have a horrible neighbor who won't stop bothering me; he's done it twice now by banging on my door, saying something horrible, then rushing off before I can say more than "Screw you" to his retreating back. I'm nervous, tired, and will definitely not be getting any sleep. 
> 
> So...fic? Everyone loves fic? If I'm not going to sleep, I might as well write fanfiction and try to calm down. The title is taken from "Always Be" by Jimmy Eat World.
> 
> Dedicated to several lovely readers who've been supportive and kind.

> _"You've been playing as a human," Eames said. "You tried to live the life you didn't get a chance to finish. You tried to grow up."_
> 
> \- _the gold in my palm was mistaken for sand_

* * *

There was a time when the Dreaming was full of children. The servants of the castle noticed the influx of young dreamers that wandered the halls. It was hard not to notice as the children (ages two to six) attempted to play servers during meals, trailed after Merv the janitor and his clean-up crew, or looked through the age appropriate books that filled the library Lucien tended. They rarely left the bounds of the castle, but quite a few were tempted to nap in Fiddler's Green.

Children did enter the Dreaming. And there were times that Dream of the Endless would take the time to interact with them. It was hard to avoid when the one you expected to refill your wine was actually much too short to reach your glass and had unintentionally switched the wine in the bottle for something else- the last few meals Dream had in the Dreaming had a variety of kid-friendly beverages. The Dream King had politely accepted soda, water, Kool-Aid, and Yoohoo.

But the part that mystified his servants was the amount of time their master would spend with the children. Dream would follow after the little mobs, absorbed and interested in their doings. He even joined in some of the activities, asking them questions and listening patiently to their roundabout, sometimes lisping answers.

His servants noticed.

* * *

Lucien hadn't ever noticed the number of beanbag chairs in his library because before the wave of child dreamers came, there hadn't been any. Too tall tables and uncomfortable chairs had moved themselves, the beanbag chairs took their places along with an assortment of blankets decorated by cartoon characters or baby animals. The large group of children used the beanbag chairs, wrapped up in or hugged the security blankets, and listened as Dream read aloud from one of the dreamed up but never written books for children that had been bursting from the shelves despite Lucien's careful re-shelving.

Dream had chosen to sit on the floor at the same level as the children. He flipped a page and continued to read to them.

" _The mockingbird, the jaguar, and the mouse in the thimble all made it to the Cotton-Candy Kingdom. There were thirteen different flavors of cotton-candy served during lunch, but the most popular one was declared to be the spearmint-"_

Lucien frowned, adjusted his glasses, but dared not interrupt as his master read a nonsensical story to the visiting children.

But Dream had stopped reading when he noticed the faces some of the children made when he mentioned the spearmint flavored cotton-candy. Instead of making some statement about the fluidity of flavor in a dream when compared to what things tasted like in reality, he nodded sympathetically and smiled at the nearest one. " _Yes, I prefer the pink one_ _too."_

* * *

Merv reported that he'd seen him drawing on the walls with some of the children. Though he cursed and complained, the janitor moved aside the walls that had the crayon scribbles of children and Dream's more intricate work. Though to the trained eye, one could see how as time passed there seemed to be a willful cultivation of a child's scrawl by Dream.

Lucien observed more story times, and suggested other books when he noticed his master had developed a liking for stories involving puzzles, riddles, or poetry.

But what they didn't understand was that all of these things were a part of a larger plan. Some bigger scheme.

* * *

If Dream were to be honest, he would say that though the Prodigal's talk during the wake had set his thoughts in motion, it was stumbling upon the dreams of an older married couple that prompted him to do something.

Their names were Peter and Zelda. Early on in their marriage, they had difficulties conceiving a child that lead to heartbreak and disappointment. But they stayed together and often dreamed the same dream. They dreamed up the child they couldn't have, the child they missed the chance to have naturally or through adoption. Sometimes Peter and Zelda felt they were too old to care for even a teenage foster child. Yet the dreaming continued, and that's how Dream found his way out.

Peter and Zelda's dream was like this: Peter comes home from a hard day at work, Zelda having just gotten home from her own job, but they both would forgo rest and relaxation to go the tiny room of their child.

The number of times Dream walked through their dream, he noticed their happiness as their child, imagined as a toddler, would be excited to see both his parents.

Peter and Zelda never noticed that their dream-child lacked distinct facial features. Their little boy was a blank slate. It would have been unnerving to an outsider, but when Dream watched the love and attention Peter and Zelda lavished on their nameless, nearly faceless boy, he knew that he had found the answer.

Dream took that idea of a blank slate and created something he'd never had before: an identity separate from himself as Dream of the Endless. He stood on the shores of the Dreaming where he created things away from the Heart of the Dreaming itself. Things created too close to the Heart of the Dreaming had a habit of becoming much too tangible, much to real. It wasn't good for the planning stages.

Dream wanted reality with a tinge of the Dreaming. He wanted a physical body. He wanted to grow up in a way that he never had a chance to when he was still Daniel Hall.

He shaped the body on the shore, keeping in mind the various stages of life. Of course he could create a few child bodies. That was easy, he'd been around toddlers for what must have been weeks. He decided on little things. His eye color would be brown, his hair would be dark, and what did some of the kids have? Dimples? He thoughtfully pressed the indentations in himself, manipulating this form as if it were made of wet clay rather than flesh and blood.

But it would have to fit over his shape easily enough that it wouldn't be constraining. It was a physical shape, a human body, but he would treat it like a costume, like an article of clothing.

Dream frowned to himself and shook his head. That wouldn't work. If he were to become a real child for a time, he'd have to take a name that went along with his new identity. Dream looked at the shape he'd created for the child, then looked at one of the older ones he'd shaped because if he wanted to grow up he'd have to have something ready to feasibly grown into or become.

He looked into this image's face and said it's name, what would soon become his own name when he adopted the child shape, and walked out of the Dreaming and into the world.

Peter and Zelda had been waiting for their boy forever. When Dream appeared he'd absolutely have to have a name, he'd have to smooth over the ripples he'd cause in their existence, in their day to day lives. They'd wanted a son, so they'd get a son, and Dream would grow up for a short time, then move on.

But he'd need a name...

It came to him as he examined the almost noble features of what would be his shape as an adult. He was already the King of Dreams and Nightmares here. Dream smiled. It would be fitting to have the name of a king as he lived his mortal life.

So Dream chose the name _Arthur._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter.

Matthew hadn't consciously decided that he would look after Dream while he did... _whatever this was._

Peter had left for work but would come home soon since he didn't work full days anymore. Zelda had left her little boy's window open, kissing the top of his head and leaving him to play with blocks on the floor of his room.

Arthur was six.

He was a particularly well-behaved child. He played quietly and never tried to eat his toys. His parents had taken precautions for everything despite the sudden and unexplained arrival of their son- they'd waited for such a long time that when he appeared practically on their doorstep they knew just what to find, how to get things for a small boy, and then usher him into the small room they'd prepared for the child they wanted but never got to have.

When Matthew looked in from his place on the windowsill, he noticed that the blocks weren't small enough to be swallowed or choked on. He also noticed that after a couple of days there were enough things to suggest that Arthur had been there from birth till now. Years compressed into days.

"Boss?"

Arthur, his boss pretending to be the child named Arthur, looked up without a hint of surprise. As if he'd known that he was being watched by a raven in his employ.

_"Problem in the Dreaming?"_

Matthew couldn't do much as a raven to show his surprise without drawing attention. Cawing or flapping his wings might draw too much attention, so he settled on adjusting his footing on the windowsill and leaning just a hair further into the room. 

"Boss, that's weird."

Arthur, but truly Dream wearing the shape of a child, watched Matthew silently and carefully adjusted the position of one of the topmost blocks. _"I think 'weird' is a strong word."_

The words were spoken in Dream's particular tone. His intonation. Matthew was used to what his master sounded like, but hearing it from a child was so very strange.

"Can she hear you?" Matthew asked, looking to the half-closed door, worried that he'd run into Zelda. Then Matthew considered that a bird, even a talking one who worked for Dream of the Endless, was capable of getting into this room pretty easily since there wasn't a screen on the window. "Is your mother worried about anything getting in here? I'd be worried about it."

Arthur's faint smile didn't drop or shift or fade. _"She's not my mother, Matthew. Not really. We both know that. But as Arthur I wanted to know what a mother's love feels like."_

Matthew would gladly sidestep that loaded comment. Dream's true mother was Night. From his carefully edited stories of his last interaction with her, Night was smothering. Lyta Hall loved Daniel, but Dream continually stepped away from that. He was no longer Daniel. But that was at least a good place to start for motherly guidelines and attributes. 

_"A normal mother,_ _"_ Dream added.

"But you aren't a normal child. How do they not notice it? Any of it?"

Arthur continued to build with the blocks and answered Matthew's question. _"Because even if I look like a little human boy, I'm still Dream of the Endless. My power lies in dreams, but I can also reflect the opposite. Reality looks like reality when compared to dreams, yes?_ _"_

"Sure, but I don't dream of supermodels and then get supermodels in real life. Though I'd like that. I could tell you stories about when I was still a regular guy. Like that one time I-"

_"Not now, Matthew. Maybe when I'm a bit older you can brag about your sexual prowess. Give me some time to grow up."_

* * *

 

And it was true. Matthew would check in on Dream and find that neither of his adoptive parents noticed the oddness of their young son.

Dream was influencing reality. He was bending it. He was shaping it around himself, around Peter and Zelda's home. Dream had made a place for himself, for himself as Arthur, in their little lives. He was their dream brought to life.

While Dream didn't easily agree that he loved his parents, he would say that if Arthur were ever more than an experiment in his living outside of his realm, that Arthur would have loved his parents dearly. Arthur wanted for nothing. Arthur received all the attention Dream felt a child needed. He was going to experience everything he could, then go back to the Dreaming satisfied that what the Prodigal said was true. His kingdom wouldn't fall apart without him there, that all dreaming wouldn't stop without him present.

Masquerading as a mortal and being imprisoned by hedge magicians were two very different things. Dream could take on his form any time he wanted. He could call on his form, call on his tools of office, and they'd all appear.

He just didn't want to.

* * *

 

Arthur initially grew at an accelerated rate. Started as a baby, moved on to toddler, got to about six years old and then slowed down. It would be a more reasonable, natural pace after that. But it didn't stop people from making comments about his growth.

People said Arthur grew like a weed. They kept saying the reassuring platitudes that anyone said about growing children:

Hadn't he just been learning to ride that bike yesterday?

He only reached my knee last week, I swear it! But now he's almost as tall as my daughter, and she's in the 5th grade!

There would be jokes about how Arthur always ate his vegetables, that it must have been the reason he was growing so tall. 

The stream of praise Peter and Zelda received almost washed away the moments of worry or confusion. Because even they noticed how quickly Arthur had grown up from the day they'd first found him to the day when things eventually evened out.

But they didn't look too closely or think too hard because they had a son who was growing up fast, but not as fast as before.

* * *

 

For the most part his siblings left him alone over the years he spent growing up as Arthur.

Except for one.

Desire loved to purr in Arthur's ear, arriving well after puberty and appearing whenever they thought their dear brother needed excitement.

High school parties were spent with teenage Arthur leaning against a wall and watching the others, but quietly bickering with Desire under the sound of the music.

"But what about that one," they would say, pointing to one of Arthur's classmates. Fit and attractive boys and girls felt it when Desire fixed their tawny eyes upon them, but Arthur never chose one over another. He never chose at all.

_"I'm not here to play your games, sister-brother. Let me drink my punch and listen to the music and go home alone. That's a realistic experience of a teenage boy going to a party without a date, isn't it?"_

Desire laughed, catching the attention of several others already charged by the hope of attraction, the hope of desire. If they stayed long enough, Desire would have a line of slightly drunk, inexperienced teens following in their wake.

"Not for everyone, brother." They didn't touch him, they didn't kiss his cheek, or pet him, or play with his rebellious hair. "And you can't fool me with those glasses. You've got appeal. I can see the man you'll become. He'll never be lonely, will he?"

Arthur ignored Desire and finished his punch.

* * *

 

When Arthur left he didn't make his adoptive family forget him, he just released his control over their reality.

He left their home, and gradually their memories of their son faded. They didn't disappear all together. Dream as Arthur had left a distinct mark while in the real world. There were mocked up records of his birth, things he'd fabricated to make Arthur realistic and more easily accepted. There were things he'd destroy when Arthur's time was over, but for now he let them remain.

Keeping that in mind, Dream was in the middle of thinking up new things to do as Arthur. He could travel, he could work, he could marry. He could do all sorts of human things, play the mortal for awhile then return to his proper place.

Still keeping in contact with Lucien in the Dreaming, Dream had learned of something...strange.

 _It's a device, my lord._ _Some kind of tool they're using to_ share dreams _._

Dream was intrigued. What was the device? How did it work? Would it harm the dreamers who entered his realm? Was it something he had to destroy to keep the Dreaming safe?

All good questions without good answers. Or _any_ answers. Dream needed to find them.

* * *

 

The answer was simple enough.

Join the army. 

Arthur was the right age, healthy, and eager to defend his country. The next stage had been complicated. Worming his way into the right situations and proving himself in tests was worth the effort. He was selected to participate in Project Somnacin.

Dream could have rationalized to himself that if he was already in the mortal world, pretending to be a human, he could find out about it through the proper channels. No harm in that. None at all.

It might have been easier to do as Dream of the Endless, but Dream wouldn't admit that he was growing too fond of being Arthur. Dream liked to think up ways to give Arthur broader life experiences. Participating in a military testing would serve both goals.

He'd take care of the problem. He'd learn everything about this PASIV device.

Then he'd be done.

* * *

 

And then Arthur met Dom and Mal Cobb.  Later he stole a PASIV with them.

After that, the only thing that could be done was to watch the progress of the device, protect the dreamers, and leave Arthur behind when the time came.

But even Dream hoped that it would come  _much_ later.


End file.
